Bella's POV:
Why the hell was he here?
...and he is staring at me expectantly.
Oh god, he is making his way towards me.
Why couldn't I have had a travel day?
Fuck, what do I do? Is he going to attack me?
"Yes. Who might you be?" I ask, playing dumb.
"I'm Agent Edward Cullen, I called and spoke to you the other day?" He says, raising an eyebrow at me.
'Well, of course, I know who you are. How can I not remember you? You caused me to remember things I had carefully avoided, and buried a long time ago.' I thought acidly.
"Yes, I remember," I replied, through stiff lips, pushing past him and heading towards the mailbox.
I noticed a rather large box was carefully leaning against the mailbox.
To: Isabella Swan.
Hm. I hardly ever got any mail unless it was a bill or some sort of subscription.
"Awesome…" I muttered, as I bent down and tried to pick it up.
Heavy. Too damn heavy.
I tried lifting it up again before a throat cleared from behind me.
"No, no...I can— *grunt*— lift it— hm— up—mm— by myself." I gritted, trying to lift it up again and again only to fail.
'What the hell is in this thing?' I thought, angrily kicking it.
"Do you need some help?" He asked, amused.
"Maybe…" I muttered, chagrined.
He nodded silently, bending down and picking up the package without so much as a huff.
I silently led him back to the house, swiftly unlocking the door and leading him towards the kitchen where he set the damn devil box onto the breakfast nook.
I quickly looked for one of the steak knives, finding one in the top drawer before I turned back towards the box, and stabbed through the clear yellow tape.
I could feel the knife as it dropped to the ground, my eyes landing on what's in the box. The air freezes in the back of my throat as I stare at the contents within the box.
I heard a click from behind me, "Isabella, please step back from the box." He warned, with his gun pulled out.
I felt myself back, as he cautiously walked towards it. He moved quickly to open the box and scoffed before turning towards me, steamed.
"What is all of this?" He asked, aggravated.
"This woman went into labor last week, in a restaurant bathroom. I was there picking up lunch and ended up helping her deliver the baby. Her husband is a butcher. He must have brought this, though, my guess is personally, since there isn't any sort of postal stamp." I guess, shrugging.
No wonder the box was heavy. There must have been about six different types of cheese, wine, and lunch meats in there.
The fact that everything was neatly packaged along with an envelope only made it more surprising.
Dear Isabella,
Words can not describe the gratitude I feel towards you.
I can't thank you enough for helping my wife with the delivery of my son, Oliver.
I hope this is enough, to begin with. It is a small token of our gratitude.
With our compliments,
Jerry and Silvia Woodly.
"Oh, Jeeze," I mutter, looking down at the massive assortment of lunch meats again.
"Do they always do this?" He asked, surprised.
"Not all of them. Some usually send the clinic some lunch for the staff. Others have sent me fruit baskets, chocolate products… there's a lot of things. I usually just end up giving some of the things to Mrs.Cope and her family or my friends." I say, shrugging.
There has got to be more than six different individual boxes of wine in here. All of the different flavors. Cool.
"...and you just accept them? What if they are trying to poison you?" He asked, appalled.
Cynical much?
"This is a small town. Everyone knows one another here. All the adults? I grew up with them. Why would anyone try to hurt me?" I scoffed.
"Believe it or not. There are people out there that do in fact do that just for shits and giggles. Don't be so trusting." He commented, eyeing the contents of the box again.
"Were you here for a specific reason or are you here just to annoy me to death?" I asked, scowling at him.
He bit his lip in response. "I'm here to speak to you...about something but you keep sidetracking me." He says, the corners of his lips twitching.
So, he's amused.
"Well, get on with it. I had an early day and want to get some rest before I have to visit the hospital this afternoon." I lied.
He nods, before looking up at me. It's then that I notice the memorizing color of his eyes for the first time since he arrived.
A deep-sea green, it was the perfect shade between blue and green, more green than blue. Does such a green even exist?
"Well?" I ask, as I slowly begin pulling out all the lunch meat and cheese and taking them to the fridge, to keep myself from ogling him.
Don't need him thinking I am a pervert, now, do we?
As I set all the meat packages into the fridge I took careful inventory.
Roast beef, ham(smoked/ honey/ regular) salami, corned beef, chicken (garlic and herb/ buffalo/ and regular)breast, turkey breast( smoked/regular, and mortadella.
I smiled as I noted everything was sliced and continued to take inventory of the cheese.
American, mozzarella, swiss, muenster, cheddar, provolone, and ricotta. Pecorino, parmesan, even cotija.
Cool, I now had enough to make myself sandwiches to my heart's content.
The wines were a lot. Strawberries, cherries, berries, and the original white and red grape wines.
"This must have cost them a lot of money," I noted as I placed all the wines on the rack.
"I need your help." I finally heard him say.
"I got that bit from the call the other day…" I replied, dryly.
"No, look. My friend and his partner were working on a case, they were traveling to Brazil to speak to one of the contacts when they both disappeared. Their last known location was Rio Preto da Eva, that's somewhere on the land of the Archugan tribe...we have already tried to negotiate with them, ask for help, but their customs forbid it." He explains.
Rio Preto da Eva goes through the tribe's land, which is probably why the tribe had refused to help.
Only a member of the tribe is allowed near there.
In cases like this, my hands were bound.
See, a woman, especially an unmarried one, isn't allowed to travel by themselves with men by themselves. It was forbidden. Offensive, even. Especially to the tribal elders.
"Well, I can see your problem, but I still can't help you," I say, pulling out two glasses and serving lemonade into them.
"What? Why not?" He asked, surprised as I offered him some lemonade.
"The customs in the tribe forbid it," I replied, as I began pulling out some things to eat. "How long have you been waiting for me?" I asked.
"Since nine in the morning." He states, unfazed.
"It's almost lunch, would you like something to eat?" I asked, remembering the lasagna Mrs.Cope brought over last night.
"Sure." He said as he sat down on the stool.
I nodded, quickly placing two large slices onto a plate before I placed it in the microwave to heat up.
I move comfortably in silence as I grab the other things for us to eat.
"To answer your question, it's because I am not married…" I answer him, quietly and honestly.
"So, you're telling me that you can't help me because of your marital status?" He asks, a glint in his eye.
"The tribe is a simple people. They are very old fashioned and protective of their females." I reply, placing his plate before him, handing him a fork afterward.
"I see." He says, before taking an apprehensive, cautious bite.
"I'm not going to poison you," I whispered as I set my plate across from his.
"I know. It's not a lack of trust. I just haven't eaten real food in four days and don't want to look like a swine." He replies amused.
"Right..." I muttered, rolling my eyes at him before taking a bite of my food.
The entire time we ate, I could tell that his mind was reeling. Like he was trying to think of something.
"So, there is no way you can help?" He finally asks.
"There is...but I don't think there is much time especially if there is a danger like you stated. Time is against us." I state, clasping my hands.
"If there is any way to help, let's do it." He says, anxiously.
I know there is a way, a little unorthodox but… still.
"Your friend. Just how important is he to you?" I ask, evasively.
"He is like a brother to me." He replies automatically.
I can hear the sincerity, along with worry in his voice.
When I look up at him, I see both emotions along with the underlying hope in his mesmerizing sea-green eyes.
I nod."Does he have a family?" I ask, swallowing thickly, playing aimlessly with the same necklace that hung around my neck.
He eyes me for a moment, searching for something before he finally does reply. "He does. His wife, Serenity, and his two kids, Harry and Gwen." He states.
The answer hit me. Harder than expected.
He has a family.
I have to help him. I can not let those two children grow up without a father. I have to help, somehow.
"How opposed are you to do this in an unorthodox manner?" I asked, eyeing him.
"I'm not opposed at all." He said, looking at me unblinkingly.
I nodded in approval."Good, because this may be the only way to save your friend." I reply, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink.
I could feel his body heat as he walked up closer to me, causing my body to react abnormally. Meaning I accidentally splashed myself in response.
"...and what, may I ask, is that Miss. Swan?" He asked me, intrigued, as he stepped closer to me.
'Bella, knock it off! You don't know him.' I chastised, as I smiled to myself, anticipating his response.
I turned and looked up at him, smirking."Just how opposed are you to faking a marriage?" I asked him.
I watched as he gulped nervously, and stepped back.
What does he mean? I thought he wanted to help his friends?
"Miss. Swan there's no need for you to do that…" he begins, looking away.
Oh, maybe he has a wife, fiance, or girlfriend? Maybe that's why he reacted like that? If that's the case, then he probably isn't going to go with my plan.
It wouldn't hurt to ask. Maybe there's a personal reason.
"Why not? I thought you wanted to help your friend? You've already tried negotiating with the tribe. You said you need me. So, this is the last resort...you wanted my help, this is my way of helping you." I stated, confused.
His reassuring smile confuses me. "No, you misunderstood me, Miss. Swan…" he begins.
Ok, now I am really confused. Is he opposed or not? "How so?" I inquired hesitantly.
"There is no need to fake anything." He replied, hesitantly.
"Why not? I mean, I get you're uncomfortable. But why not do this to help your friend?" I asked.
"No, you are misunderstanding me, Miss. Swan. What I meant is, that there's no need for us to fake anything ...because we're already married." He states.
Did he just—?
No, I must have misheard him.
He couldn't have possibly said that we are married to each other. When we just met in person, not three hours ago.
I look at him again to see him staring at me, anxiously, that is when I realize he did, in fact, say we're married.
Before I can stop what I am doing I find myself walk up to him and—
SLAP!
Oh. My. God.
Did I just–? Did he just—? Fuck.